


Ma Vhenan - Solas and the Inquisitor, Vignettes

by Wintryone



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-03-26 11:42:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3849643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintryone/pseuds/Wintryone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story will feature small chapters focused on the relationship between Inquisitor Ellana Lavellan and Solas. They will not necessarily be in chronological order, but instead written at the whim of my inspiration. I found the pull of writing for this mysterious elf too great to ignore, and yet had no plot to carry out a longer work. So, I’ve taken my cue from a few other writers who have gone this route, and will post these vignettes for the pleasure of writing them, and hopefully for your reading pleasure, as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Solas

I am a man torn, if man I can be called.

The danger was already present. I was fully aware of the treacherous ground upon which I walked, ever since she first kissed me in the Fade.

I should not have returned her passion. In fact, I did worse - I allowed my flesh and blood to override my mind. I allowed my heart to be bewitched by the light in her veridian eyes, and the obvious compassion of her nature. I reached for her, pulled her back to me, and the bliss of that moment is forever and indelibly etched into my very being.

But it is far too late to reverse what I have done. I cannot erase the memory of her taste. It is nothing like I have experienced before, in the Fade or out. And yet, that is not the worst. The worst is the grace and wisdom she exhibits with every action, each glance, and the words that emerge from those perfect lips. Even her faults enchant me, like the nervous way she tugs at strands of her hair, or the rustic way she sometimes eats with her fingers when she thinks no one is watching.

The kiss on the Balcony was… exquisite. It took all of my will to leave her standing there.

And yet, as is her wont, she did not pressure me or call me back. She simply smiled in that relaxed way that is hers alone.

I am a man torn.

To pursue Ellana is worse than unfair to her. To myself. The damage I may cause can hardly be measured. I risk everything if I claim her love as my own. Especially my integrity of purpose.

I told her I required time to think, to consider, when I should have relayed in no uncertain terms that it could never be. A brief respite is not worth the long sorrow of regret, this I well know. An impossible choice is before me, disappoint her now, or cause a much greater, lasting hurt that may never be healed. Not for her, nor for myself.

No, I will not go to her chambers this night. I will sleep alone, as I have done for so long, and find my comfort and solace in the Fade.


	2. Qunari Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Iron Bull and the Inquisitor have a chat.

 

“Hey, Boss.” The casual, friendly voice was completely at odds with the appearance of the towering, battle-scarred giant who sat down beside her on the battlements. “What’s up?”

A wan smile, a slight shake of her head, was all the answer he received. Bull tried again.

“I hear you’re planning a trip out West,” he said. “Going after those Vint bastards. Pick your crew yet?”

“Not yet,” she murmured, and continued to gaze out over the cold and rocky landscape.

He’d rarely seen her this distracted, causing a puzzled frown to lower his massive brow. Bull cleared his throat and tried again. “I hear there’s a dragon out there,” he said attempting to keep his tone light, but his excitement won out as he repeated, “A _high_ dragon.”

Finally, a small smile graced her lips. “Sure Bull, you’re in.”

“Alright!” he exclaimed in that feral way he had. “Thanks, Boss.” Bull grinned widely, straightened his shoulders and huffed, as if he were already preparing for battle. His goal accomplished, he took a closer look at the Inquisitor. Usually he enjoyed the fact that she wasn’t overly chatty, but his Ben-hassrath training kicked in as he inspected her features. This was a woman with a heavy weight on her mind, and his keen perception told him this wasn’t about the harsh reality that the fate of the world rested on those slim shoulders. He’d watched her bear that burden with strength and grace for many, many weeks now. This was…

“When we first met,” Ellana said softly, interrupting his thoughts, “you told me the Qunari don’t fall in love.”

“That’s right,” he said carefully, suddenly aware he was on slippery ground. Before he could say more, however, she sighed deeply.

“Lucky you.”

This could only be about the elf - the other elf. So, Bull asked, “You want me to break him for you?”

“What?” she stammered in surprise. “What? No, no, I…”

“Or how about a ride on The Bull?” he asked matter of factly, sure he was being helpful. “That seems to cheer the ladies up.”

Instead of a response, her eyes grew round and her cheeks flamed. Apparently, the Inquisitor wasn’t used to flirting, he thought, and reassessed his approach.

“I was teasing you, Boss,” he replied with a chuckle. “Look, I don’t know much about this shi… love. Maybe talk to Josephine or…”

She seemed to calm down and actually smiled, and he was again taken by how that simple act could brighten her whole world. “What I need is not talk,” she said, and stood. All business again, she told him, “Be ready in two days. And bring that shiny new axe I had made for you.”

He found it remarkable how quickly she always recovered her composure. “Sure, Boss,” he agreed, standing as well. “See you.”

A slight wave of her hand and she turned the corner to descend the stone stairway.

 

 


	3. Once Upon the Fade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor struggles with her feelings.

Ellana went to sleep that night, alone as always, her decision _not_ to take Solas with her to the Western Approach firm in her mind. She would bring Bull and Cole, and perhaps Dorian or Varric. Both were good company, and had a way about them that eased her mind and settled her heart.

Although she had never been in love before, she could only assume that this hollowness in her chest was a result of her feelings for Solas. Especially because both times they had kissed, the opposite became true. She had felt full, very near to bursting with joy and desire. A deep wanting that she had no name for, other than love.

Yet that night in her dreams, in the Fade, she was back in Haven, searching through the tired shacks and decrepit Chantry for Solas. A whisper on the air, the scent of embrium and elfroot teasing her senses into thinking he would be in the next room, around the next corner.

She awoke in a near panic, her futile night-search so fresh in her mind that as soon as she’d dressed, she ran down the stairway until she reached the odd room where Solas spent most of his time. When she saw him, sitting at his ease, a moldy old book spread before him, she nearly moaned in relief.

Instead, she gathered her wits and approached him with as much composure as she could muster.

“We’re leaving to search out the Venatori in the Western Approach tomorrow. Will you be part of the company?”

He looked up at her through narrowed eyes, which burned with a strange intensity, but his voice was calm and measured as he replied, “Of course.”

Ellana only nodded and retraced her steps as quickly as she could without actually breaking into a run.

She was a fool, and she knew it.

 

 


	4. Rift Musings

You should see the Inquisitor when we come upon a rift. Her hand will start to crackle and glow before the tear is even within her sight. Her whole demeanor changes, and I am fascinated to watch her gentle features transform into a mask of unyielding determination. More than once I have been caught off guard and attacked by demons unawares, so focused have I been on the manner in which she wields such power.

With no instruction and little understanding of the nature of the anchor, I have watched her develop a methodology that is almost frightening in its effective simplicity. Her arm shoots upward, and as the power explodes from her small hand, she stands resolute, focused only on the rift. A rage demon’s blast of fire, a desire demon’s stream of ice, will only momentarily disrupt her efforts. Stumble or cry out she may, but within seconds her composure is regained, her arm once again in the air, old magic pouring through her, repairing the tear like one of the great healers of old.

When the breach becomes temporarily dormant, only then does she pull her staff from her back, dispersing the remaining demons with a skill I have rarely seen. Once it is closed, her final effort resounding like a blast of thunder in the air, she is calling our names, assessing our wounds, confirming that we all still stand.

I have never seen another one like her. She is a sight to behold.


	5. Indisposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas begins to lose his cultivated indifference as a new threat appears.

I have often expressed that fear and desire are the oldest and strongest of emotions. Their motivations can rarely withstand the higher states of being, such as wisdom and compassion.

I can barely keep my countenance as I write these words, knowing now as I do that fear and desire seem to be the very nature of love.

In the Fade, my experiences of love have always been a pure form of joy that is not easily expressed in this mundane world. Yet, I have watched as this most vaulted of emotions has led men and women into acts of great despair and much tragedy. Something I did not truly, personally, understand until now.

Let me begin by saying that I have the highest regard and respect for Commander Cullen, as head of the Inquisition’s forces. He is a skilled warrior and a competent leader.

As a man, however, I begin to detest him more and more with each day that passes. I know that some of the blame can be placed upon me. I have purposefully kept my distance from the Inquisitor, not wanting to risk my purpose or her happiness by pursuing my own selfish needs. Yet, the consequences of my withdrawal have been unexpected, and most disturbing, inspiring in me an emotion which I have never experienced so deeply.

Jealousy.

It is obvious to me that our fine Commander has taken a more personal interest in Ellana of late.

It seems wherever I go, I see them together, speaking in low voices, an unflattering flush spread across the man’s cheeks. His eyes are ever upon her, his hands always hovering near her, almost, but not quite, touching her.

And as this intimacy increases, so does my wrath.

It matters not that I know full well these irrational feelings arise from my own choices. Yet, my blood boils at even the thought of him touching her. I did not expect this, and with each day that passes my resolve to stay away from her weakens.

I fear what I may do, in my desperation and need. Desire and fear, the most dangerous of emotions indeed.

 

 


	6. The Dread Wolf

“What are these things, anyway?” Varric asked as they came upon yet another statue.

“I’d say it’s a wolf,” Blackwall replied, deadpan.

 “Very funny, Hero,” Varric mumbled sarcastically. “But why were the Dalish so obsessed with them? I mean, fangs, claws, blood-thirsty growling.” He scratched the top of his head. “Just seems a weird thing to venerate.”

“Better than a nug,” said Blackwall.

Varric only snorted.

Ellana stepped up to the carven wolf and placed a gentle hand on its forepaw. “Fen’Harel,” she said softly. “The Dread Wolf.”

“Dread, huh?” Varric quipped. “This one looks more like a tame puppy. Peaceful, almost.” 

“The legend of my people says that Fen’Harel tricked the gods into the Heavens, then locked them away, to stop their war with the Forgotten Ones.”

Solas stepped nearer, his eyes intent on the Inquisitor, but remained silent.

“He tricked the Forgotten Ones, too. Made them believe he was on their side, then locked them away in the Abyss.” Ellana sighed, and turned back to face the group. “In the stories Fen’Harel is wicked and deceitful, but I always wondered…” her voice trailed off.

After several moments of charged silence, Solas finally spoke. “What did you wonder?” he asked in a tight voice.

Her eyes met his, and there was a sadness in them he’d rarely seen.

“I always wondered if he did it to stop the war. To prevent more death and destruction among the People, and then somehow couldn’t make it right. Couldn’t free the gods without unleashing the despair of the Forgotten Ones upon the world again.”

Solas swallowed hard, but attempted to keep his voice even. “Why would you think such a thing, lethallan?”

The use of the endearment caused her heart to speed up a bit, and for a moment it seemed as if the dwarf and the Warden had disappeared. “Because if it were me, I’d do anything to stop a war.” She smiled sheepishly and added, “Sort of like now.”

Solas merely gave a slight bow and turned away, causing Ellana to wonder if she’d said something wrong.

She did not see the moisture building in his eyes, only felt his apparent rejection.

It was Varric who broke the sudden tension. “Let’s go, Chuckles. I think we have another body pit to burn somewhere in this Maker-forsaken place.”

After a last wistful touch to the stone wolf, Ellana turned and followed them down the hill.

 

 


	7. Wide Awake

“Why do you stay away from her?” Cole asked, puzzled.

“Excuse me?” Solas asked, not entirely surprised by the abrupt change of subject. A moment ago they’d been speaking of Cole’s experiences at the White Spire.

“Heavy, dark, a weight that suffocates, can’t breathe and then… _her_. Shiny, warmth that soothes and lifts. Old pain breaks, fragments float in the air around her face like tiny jewels…”

Solas understood him all too clearly. “It would be selfish, dangerous. I cannot risk...”

“It doesn’t matter who you are. You are hurting her _now_. She is hurting. You could stop the pain. You could help." Cole waited expectantly, clearly believing that his elven friend would agree with his particular brand of logic. Helping was all that ever mattered.

“If only it were that simple, Cole,” he replied sadly. Yet fresh on his mind was the Inquisitor’s startling insight by the wolf statue. How could a Dalish elf, raised in the wilds, have gained such wisdom?

“She is coming. _Help_ her.” And suddenly, Cole was no longer there.

Her soft footsteps ascended the stairs, and soon he could see the top of her head. “Wasn’t Cole just here? I thought I heard his voice,” Ellana said.

The expression on Solas' face stopped the words in her throat. No matter that she wanted to ask him if something was wrong. She wanted to ask him a million things, but she could only stand there, stupidly staring at him, the words caught in her mouth.

“Ma Vhenan,” he said in a low, hoarse voice. He took a step toward her, then another. Time seemed to slow and then stop. When at last he stood before her, she whispered, “Am I dreaming?”

A long pause, and then, “No, we are awake, in the mortal world.”

One hand came up to her face, and her whole body shivered from the simple touch. Laughter and the clanking of mugs floated up from the bar below, but neither noticed.

“Solas?” she asked, now not sure herself what she wanted to know.

His other hand rose to frame her cheeks, and his head dipped slightly forward. “I want to kiss you more than I want to breathe,” he said.

Her own breath hitched, and her eyes closed, afraid to break the moment. “Solas.” It was not much more than a sigh.

And then, the warmth of his lips were upon hers, the caress of his fingers in her hair. She opened for him, to him. How long she had been waiting for this. For this feeling again, as if she’d suddenly been thrown off a cliff, and was falling, falling.

His hands slid down her back, and pulled her tightly to him as he deepened the kiss. Gone was the gentle meeting of lips of moments before; now replaced by a voracious hunger as his mouth claimed hers. His hands began to explore the slim curves of her waist, and as she surrendered to the tempest building between them, all remaining thoughts fled. 

How long they stood there, wrapped together, Ellana did not know. It could have been minutes, hours, but when he finally lifted his head and looked down at her, time had no meaning at all.

“Come,” was all he said as he took her hand and led her away. Starlight and moonlight replaced lantern light as they made their way along the battlements and through the keep. Ellana’s body was still humming with unspent passion, her mind and heart in a whirl of confusion. Was this really happening?

When at last they entered her chambers, Solas released her hand and turned from her, causing a slight panic to form in her belly. Had he led her here only to reject her? He'd kissed her that same way in the Fade version of Haven, yet hadn't touched her again in the weeks since. 

But when he turned to face her again, the light of passion was still shining from his eyes, even though his lips formed a sad smile.

“It seems,” he said in more of his normal voice, “there is no decision to make, after all.”

She couldn’t stop herself, she moved a few steps closer to him. “What do you mean?”

Solas pulled her the rest of the way to him, until his arms were around her, his forehead pressed to hers. “I’m sorry _Ma Vhenan_ , but whatever the consequences, I must…”

He gave her no time to consider what he’d said, no chance to respond, before his mouth was once again upon hers, his tongue sliding along her lips, seeking entrance into her warmth. Ellana responded with all the longing she’d been suppressing these many weeks, allowing herself the freedom to finally show him just how much she wanted him - no, _needed_ him. She came alive again at his touch, her whole being filled with a power greater than the mark on her hand. She could feel the Fade magic pulsing under the skin of her palm, almost as if if there was a rift nearby. The air around them seemed to shimmer with it, and she wondered again if she were dreaming.

But no, this was all too real. No slow dance of making love, but instead a release of unfilled desire, a frantic exploration that soon had their clothes scattered on the floor, and their bodies entwined underneath the canopy of her bed. Ellana was not afraid of such power, she thrived on its intensity, urging him on, taking everything he would give her and offering even more back to him in her turn. Into the deep of the night the two came together again and again. If the world should end tomorrow, Ellana knew she wouldn't care. This night, she had everything she'd every wanted, right here in her arms.

Much later, still entwined, yet satiated and content, she asked him, “Solas, what does this mean? I need to… I just wonder about us… what happens now?” 

He kissed her forehead gently, his lips sending a wave of pleasure rippling through her all over again. “I cannot see the future,” he said. “I would not try to guess what is before us.” Another kiss, his arm tightened around her, and his voice was rough as he added, “But you are my heart, never doubt that.”


	8. Dwarven Speculations

I watch people. It's what I do. And then, if they happen to be interesting or absurd (I don't really care which) I write about them. Sometimes in made-up stories, and sometimes in a quasi-factual account.

This particular account is of the later type. I don't know if I'll ever write the full tale of the Inquisitor. Maker, I don't even know if I'll survive this mess to make the attempt. But in years to come, they will remember the Inquisitor as an elf, who was touched by Andraste to combat the greatest threat the world has ever known. A hero, whether she fails or succeeds, because she was willing to do what no one else could.

But me? I've come to know the woman behind the mask of Inquisitor. No one will ever believe that she was a gentle soul who counted each death as a personal failure. That she would sit for hour upon hour with Cullen, Leliana or Josephine, discussing every detail, learning all she could about battle and espionage and diplomacy. It wasn't just her skill as a mage, or that weird mark on her hand that led us. It was her strong mind as much as anything, but most of all, it was her heart.

When we first got to Skyhold, I admit I was getting pretty worried about her. It wasn't just her impressive new title, or the looming threat of Corypheus, or the challenge of Hawke's news about the Wardens. That would have been enough to send anyone over the edge. It wasn't even that suddenly people were pouring in from all over Ferelden and Orlais as the stories about the Inquisition grew - all of whom she felt personally responsible for.

What was it? A simple thing really, but the fate of the world was at risk because of it. You see, the Inquisitor had fallen in love. And not with one of her many admirers, any of whom would have jumped at the chance to be with her (Cullen definitely was first in that category, hehe.). No, Ellana had lost her heart to our resident Fade expert. The mysterious elf, to be exact. Solas. And I don't think any of us quite had a handle on him.

I saw the dark circles under her eyes, despite the smiles. I saw how much effort it took for her to battle the constant exhaustion from too many sleepless nights. _Maferath's balls_ , it got so bad I even considered having a talk with him, myself. Well, me and Bianca, of course.

Just when I thought she'd reached her breaking point, however, something changed - In a big way, mind you, all at once and with no warning.

One morning, the Inquisitor entered the great hall from her chambers, Chuckles directly behind her. Her face was practically glowing, her eyes dancing with pleasure. Despite the very neutral expression she wore, I _knew_. For good or ill, the elf had finally stopped avoiding her, and from that day forward has been a constant fixture at her side.

In the short term, I'd have to say it was for the good. The Inquisitor's energy seemed boundless after that. She took on every task, fought every battle and appeased every stupid noble as if she were born to it. Happy and confident, all of us seemed to thrive under her unwavering leadership. We still are.

But in the long term? Yeah, I'm worried. Because despite their apparent closeness, there is something in the elf’s eyes that makes me nervous. Something so strange that even Bianca gets twitchy.

How this will all play out is anyone's guess. But, just like with the Champion, I'm in this until the end, be it bitter or sweet.

That's just what I do, too.

_Varric Tethras_

 

 


	9. A Change of Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This will most likely be the last vignette for a while. I may add more in the future, but for now, I think I have explored their relationship as best as I am able. I hope you’ve all enjoyed these little chapters. I really appreciated all the kudos, and the comments always brightened my day. Thank you so much for reading!

 

* * *

 

_**Solas** _

Early in our acquaintance the Herald asked me if I'd joined the Inquisition to enrich my experiences in the Fade. Her curiosity delighted me, as it has always done, but I answered her truthfully when I told her I'd stayed to help fight the greatest threat Thedas has ever known.

While the veracity of my answer has not changed, it was not the whole truth, even then. I had not yet discovered the depth and breadth of her character, and although the importance of the anchor embedded in her flesh could not be questioned, she intrigued me in a way I'd never before experienced.

Who was this small Dalish woman who had not only survived the blast at the Conclave, but who had also walked physically in the Fade? Never mind that her body has survived the ordeal, more importantly her mind was intact. Well before she was appointed Inquisitor, her charismatic leadership set the tone for us all.

She was, in a word, remarkable. No one could blame me for wishing to stay by her side and witness how she would change history. I had no foreknowledge that she would change me, as well.

There is some irony that if not for Commander Cullen’s attentions, or the wisdom of Cole’s insight, I many not have found the greatest bliss I have ever known.

There is her touch, which gentle though it is, incites me to a passion I can hardly contain. There is her taste, richer than an aged wine, yet as sweet as the nectar sipped from spring’s first blossom.  There is the way her body fits to mine in such a manner than I forget myself completely and there is only the bliss of our joining. And yet, more than any of those things, there is something else. A thing so unexpected and inexplicable that I never thought to find in this mortal world of decay and death.

There is the way in which her spirit sings to mine, filling all the dark corners of my soul, bringing to life within me all that I believed was long lost to me.

It is as miraculous as everything else about her. I cannot imagine a world without her in it.

The fear remains, but now it is of a different sort. It is the fear that she will come to harm as she risks herself on behalf of us all.

I protect her with my magic as best I may, but each blade that threatens her, every spell that causes her pain, arouses in me a terror I cannot truly describe. One that I must keep suppressed or put her yet in more danger.

I do not allow myself to consider the future, for the day will surely come when she must face Corypheus, himself. After that, I do not know what what shall become of us, but I fear it will destroy us both.

For now, I only know that she is _ma vhenan_ , my heart. Nothing else matters.

**Author's Note:**

> A heartfelt thank you to Fenzev for lending me her beta talents.


End file.
